


First Kiss

by Elfy (elfowlgirl)



Category: Thrilling Intent (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, precise word count
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 15:19:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7111045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfowlgirl/pseuds/Elfy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment’s worth one thousand words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Kiss

“ _Ashe._ ” The way she says the word is not harsh but firm, cutting short the next retort that Ashe is more than ready to fire back. A long, uneasy silence seems to hang between the two of them, tension so thick in the air it could be cut with a dagger.

And then the brunette leans in and gently presses her lips against Ashe’s.

The guardian’s mind goes blank for but a moment as the shock settles in - the flickering flames of her next words die on her tongue, and the cinders that remain aren’t enough to manage so much as a sound of confusion let alone an attempt at a scathing retort, a sarcastic comment, _something, anything_ to prove that she isn’t as taken aback by this as she feels.

Seconds later her thoughts race after her heart, distant memories and pure emotion that burst through the budding dam and flood her head.

Another burst of air rushes across the tower’s summit, nervousness and vertigo rolled into one as they settle in the bottom of her stomach. A sharp jolt as the rough grating of the well-worn brick runs against her hands, movements fueled by adrenaline, exhaustion, betrayal. She roars, each word laced with fury. Coherent thought seems almost beyond her by this point, long beyond simple _irritation_ at the deception that has fallen upon her.

Her knuckles are bloodied and bruised, emotion replaced with the impact of something that might’ve once been friendship turned rivalry turned _I’m going to fuck her up if it’s the last thing I do._ The mantra repeats, words blurring together. _Adrenaline. Exhaustion. Betrayal._

Then the pressure, the heat on her skin, twisting and biting and the shattering of glass. Sensation momentarily lost to a mixture of abyss and eternity, extending so far that in that instant, it becomes forever.

She can't see the water ripple, darkness clouding all but the brightest lights scattered throughout the nearby streets, but she can hear the wind lapping at the pond's surface. Even as it brushes soothingly across her skin the air is hot and heavy, and everything about her _hurts_.

Somehow, beneath it all, there's a sense of satisfaction. Completion. Even as the blood pools beneath her and stains the scattered dirt, and the feeling of energy fades as it dies at her fingertips. The hole in her chest, in her heart, doesn't seem quite as ravenous. Her words are lighter, her mind is clearer.

There's a calm, almost, buried within the copper and humidity on the breeze. The dying sunlight, already so thin and bare, finds its way behind a distant mountain. The blades of grass lick at her legs, and, even with each heavy, aching breath, she is at peace.

Dark as it is she can still imagine the smile on her adversary’s - _rival’s, friend’s?_ \- face as the witch takes her leave, a cryptic calmness and sincerity that, before that day, would have been startling.

The soft crunch of the earth under boots. The sharp smell of nature in a faraway city. The dying embers of spells long cast. Hot tea, more bitter than sweet.

And then the sun is burning overhead, strangely calm and comforting on a day filled with so much blood and death, and stronger than anything else on her tongue is the taste of _magic_. Every inch of her body screams _pain_ but also _questions, worry, panic_ \- she tries her best to hide it, catching stray glances of laughing amber eyes that watch her slyly when they think she's not looking.

She wants to stop, sit, _talk_ , but can't. Too much to do, too many things to think, and besides, her focus is continuously stolen by that scorching sense of _fear_ that seems to race through her veins with every one of her rapid heartbeats.

Words failed her, then. They fail her even now.

The brunette, try as she might, never seems to run out of words. Tone a stinging bee, tongue a newly sharpened sword, words bitter like bad alcohol - and somewhere beneath it all an unerring sweetness to the bluntness of her honesty. The anger and ferocity of someone uncaring, a burning passion in her heart that simmers at the worst of times and crashes through the atmosphere like one of her meteors at the best.

Careful consideration, reckless abandon, a smile that flickers across her lips as a brilliant flame does the same at her fingertips - though buried beneath it all is a sense of mystique as a tuft of her brown-black hair falls to mask her eyes.

She seems to be made of a mosaic of intrigue, each question forgotten at a word because her words mean too much and her glare seems to pierce Ashe’s thoughts; somehow there are moments, still, where it all seems to fade. Where the grin on her face is as transparent as a pane of glass, her expression as honest as her words, thoughts laid bare, and the tangled web of intricacies that make her who she is somehow seem so much simpler.

Memory is lost and reality returns as the wind tugs gently at Ashe’s wispy-white hair. That same crystal-clear look lies on Inien’s face now - calling forth not so much _mystery_ as _inquiry,_ trading her usual exasperation for something that resembles at attempt at apprehension. For once, the witch seems neither angry nor annoyed nor panicked nor excited - just nervous. A strange look for her coupled with an unusual silence as she waits for some form of acknowledgement or response or reply or - or _something_.

Ashe can’t quite bring herself to close her eyes, to let the expression on the witch’s face fade from her vision. Instead gleaming gold locks with amber, and she tugs nervously at a stray lock. Her face, she’s sure, is red, and she can feel the heat as it blossoms in her cheeks.

“So,” Ashe says.

“So,” Inien echoes.

Another long moment hangs in the air between them, before Ashe returns the favor.


End file.
